


Home

by castielsstubble



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstubble/pseuds/castielsstubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knows the mark is tearing Dean apart from the inside out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

   When Dean is close it is as if the stars are brighter, burning stronger so if Castiel squints just right he thinks he can almost see their outlines in the summer sky. When the mud clings to Dean’s boots, gripping the black leather longer than it has to, Castiel knows how it feels. When Dean stumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, Castiel cannot help but feel his heart fill to bursting. When he catches a sniff of Dean’s after-shower smell, Castiel feels the tips of his fingers moving ever so slightly in his direction. When Dean crumples before the effects of the mark, leaving behind something that is not quite Dean, Castiel wants to hold him and whisper that everything will be alright, even if it won’t.

   Castiel’s home was with the garrison. With heaven. With that kite-flying Tuesday. His brothers and sisters filling his mind with their song. Where he first learned to fly, wings cutting through the dimensions. Where he learned to fight, angel blade twirling and clashing in a deadly ballet. With father. But he left, and the archangels’ rage and blame echoed through heaven, their voices like flames in his head, burning and tearing.

   No. Home could not be a place where orders had to be obeyed to the letter and minds were wiped clean with little afterthought. Like brushing crumbs off a counter-top. Heaven was clean. Too clean. A room without a speck of dirt. The air without dust motes. Without life. Home cannot be found in a chain of command.

   When Castiel first saw Dean’s soul, it had been tortured for so long that Dean couldn’t remember if it had always been that way. If he had been born to a family or the blade, he didn’t know. Twisted into something that sliced and bent and broke. But even though most of his soul was covered with a thick black film that dimmed its true brilliance, Castiel could see that Dean still tried to remember before. Dean could not quite recall the feel of the sun on skin, but he thought it was something akin to the flames of hell. In his dreams he can almost see the blue light of Castiel’s grace descending towards him. He fought him the whole way, the touch of his grace burning into Dean’s skin.

   Dean was the first person Castiel called after he lost his grace. Dean would understand. He always had. Castiel was thousands of years old and yet, even a heavenly warrior needed support. Dean was always there. Sometimes Castiel wonders how he survived without him. Funny how a scruffy haired, green eyed human could make Castiel melt with a single smile.

\---

   When Cas is close, Dean knows what it is to see the universe, the stars encapsulated in his blue eyes. When Cas swirls and twists in battle, Dean wants to know what it is like to be held in his deadly embrace. When Castiel appears, trenchcoat aflutter, Dean cannot help but smile, knowing his angel is near. When Dean smells the faint ozone clinging to Castiel after a fight, he feels his knees buckle ever so slightly. When Castiel slumps, tired after using his ever-weakening grace, Dean wants to cradle him in his arms and tell him that everything will be fine.

   Dean thought he knew home with his father. With driving lessons in the Impala. With learning how to make his first sawed off. His brother never far. With vampires and skinwalkers and werewolves. With bonding during a hunt. With protection. But John yelled, and the rage made him want to fade into the hotel wallpaper.

   No. Home cannot be where children become soldiers in wars they don’t want to fight. Home cannot be orders and being left alone for weeks on end with a little brother he couldn’t always feed. A place where Dean couldn’t talk about his questions or experiment. Home cannot be found in a chain of command.

   Castiel is something different. Not human, but not quite angel. Sometimes Dean dreams of reaching out and finding Castiel next to him in bed. But as he wakes up, he realizes he is alone, the space next to him cold and empty. There were times when Dean filled the emptiness with beer and women. Drowning in alcohol made him feel free. Almost as if he could fly. Women filled the space next to him but never the space inside him.

   Castiel meant support. When Dean swayed and felt like falling, Castiel was there. Dean never truly understood why a celestial being would waste his time with him, but he was grateful. Whenever Castiel leaves, Dean feels like a piece of his heart leaves with him. Funny how an insanely old angel would hang around enough to let Dean fall in love with him.

\---

   Sam knows. He sees how they look at each other, even if they don’t see it themselves. Dean has always skirted around the idea of being anything but straight. In their home, everything had to be standard issue. This meant Sam and Dean had to be military grade as well. Strong. Unwavering. Obedient. Sam often fought with his father. Sam wanted to get away. To leave. Stanford was his escape.

   Sam thinks Castiel might be Dean’s escape. From the mark, and the emptiness Sam sees when Dean doesn’t think he is looking. Sam sees how Dean’s eyes soften whenever he glances at the angel. How he lingers in Castiel’s embrace a second longer than usual. How Cas stares at Dean’s lips when he talks.

   Sam know what home is. Home is here. The Impala, his brother, and Dean’s angel. Home for Sam is the knowledge that Cas will take care of Dean when it finally happens. He sees it in the way Cas shifts ever so slightly towards Dean when they sit near each other. In the way Dean tells Cas to call if he gets in trouble.

\---

   When Dean walks down those stairs, his eyes seem devoid of light. Like the skeletal hands of trees in the winter, reaching for the sky. When Dean hands Cas the blade, Castiel’s shoulders relax infinitesimally. Cas wants to reach out. To let Dean know he is here. But he is afraid of feeling how little of Dean there is left.

\---

   Sam knows Dean is flailing. Reaching out for someone, anyone. Like a drowning man, sinking to the seafloor. Watching his last breath float away in silvery bubbles. Dean tries to hide it behind a facade of normalcy, but Sam knows.

   “Cas… Dean’s in trouble.”

\---

   Castiel needs Dean to be ok. As Dean breaks down, as does Castiel. He is panicking behind a stoic face. And yet, he knows exactly what needs to be done. He pads down the hallway, turns into Dean’s room. Dean’s back is to him, sitting on the bed. His hand over the mark. Cas sits in the chair across from him as Dean looks up. He lets the silence sit for a moment. His heartbeat quickens.

   “Dean, I need you to know that I am here for you.”

   “Yeah Cas. I know.” Dean says quietly. His eyes search the room. Their green color seems drained by the dark shadows beneath them.

   “Dean, I-”, He pauses for a moment. “I love you. I have for a long time, but now I know it for what it is. When I say I am here for you, I mean it. Always.”

   Dean’s eyes widen. He takes his hand from the mark, the redness of it standing out against the rest of his skin. The veins surrounding it have taken up the same coloration, but as Cas watches, it begins to fade back to its normal color. Dean takes Castiel’s hand in his.

   “I love you too.” It feels good to finally let it out. Like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders he didn’t know he was carrying. Cas takes Dean’s face in his hand.

   When they kiss it is as if a million new galaxies spark into existence, they billow and bloom in the distance between the fallen angel and the lost soul. Like two pieces of a puzzle finally joined. Dean’s pulse quickens, as he wraps his arms around Cas’ waist. It feels right, being here.

   And they both know that they have found home. 


End file.
